Dressing my doll.

Later, I appraise Nancy in my cramped kitchen. She has stopped crying about her mother and seems resigned to staying with me, especially now that she is starting to understand that literally no one in the world is going to have sympathy for her.

“You have this whole, awesome body... It’s going to be so useful,” I say. She squirms at the odd praise. That word again. It disgusts and delights different parts of her. It’s so reductive, yet important. “Think about it. Your many moving parts… You are a versatile tool. Posable and self-balancing. A Swiss army knife.”

“Uh… that’s fucking weird to say out loud, but I guess... it’s true.” Unwanted pride and excitement stir in her. There may be innumerably more ways of being useful waiting to be discovered.

“And since you are conveniently person-shaped, you make a perfect clothing model. Let’s change that outfit.” I turn her toward me by her shoulders. She looks down as I yank her flannel shirt open, springing two buttons onto the floor.

“Hey! Careful! That’s my dad’s shirt!” Her arms fly up to protect herself.

I have never seen the guy, and I don’t want to hear her life story. I almost slap her for being a hassle, but I do feel bad for damaging someone else’s property. “You do it then.”

She is poised to argue, but has trouble explaining to me why she has any right to resist. Finally, she just complies, unbuttoning the rest and shrugging it off, revealing a peach tank top that shows off her shapely shoulders and gentle bust.

“That is so much better! You know… the oversized cargo pants are sorta cute with that top. Mmmm… Let’s try without them anyway.”

She struggles with what to do, how to justify defying me. She bites her cheek and gives me sad puppy dog eyes. “B-but I’m cold.” It’s a transparent play for pity.

“Off.”

She looks away, and takes the pants off. Her blue cotton panties are cute, if not exciting. Her legs, though, are amazing. Firm thighs and high calves, round booty. This is going to be awesome! I get more excited as I look her over, not the nervous excitement I would normally feel when talking to a cutie. It is closer to the excitement of unboxing a new purchase, so full of promise. Now she is all mine!

I continue to process the ramifications. If I want the girlfriend experience, I could dress her up and take her out to dinner, right? But it would it feel like a real date? I’d look like one of those Real Doll guys, wouldn’t I? Sheesh. No. I couldn’t take that kind of embarrassment. Unless... Will parading our slaves around become socially acceptable? If this is happening everywhere, then it might. One thing is for sure; I don’t have the balls to do it until I see others doing it first.

I dump out all of the clothes Nancy’s mother gave me onto the futon and proceed to kick them around until I find what I am looking for. I pluck matching pink lace panties and bra from the pile and hand them to Nancy. “Here, try these on in the bathroom then show me how they fit.”

She takes them with a frown. “They fit fine. They are mine.”

I do slap her this time. Very lightly. Just a warning. “Be a good clothes hanger for me. Go.”

She disappears in a huff. “This bathroom is fucking gross!” Her complaint is disregarded. It’s not that I’m trying give her privacy, that’s another ridiculous concept. I want to be surprised by her big reveal.

“Ta-daaaah,” she says with zero enthusiasm. She stands awkwardly in the narrow doorway wearing the lingerie, plus my belt still hanging from her neck, running down between her lace-cupped tits. The panties are cut low on the hips and frame the roundness of her ass without actually covering much. I stroke myself over my sweatpants in appreciation.

“You are so damn sexy! Come! Lay down here.” I pat the lumpy mattress in the middle of piles of her clothes.

“What are you going to do?” she asks, crossing her arms.

“What kind of question is that?” When she doesn’t answer, I help her out. “A silly one. Whatever I feel like.”

I stand up and step off of the futon, that is to say, into the kitchen, so she can lay down. She rolls her eyes and crawls into the middle of the bed and sits down, arms wrapped around her legs. She is startled when she looks toward me. “Oh god, do you have to?” She averts her eyes to the window.

“Lay back and touch yourself.” My sweatpants are at my ankles, no underwear in sight. My right hand tugs at my limp noodle and I scratch my ass with my left. She hesitates to move so I help her along with some encouragement. “I haven’t had access to porn in a while. Give me a show, Nancy.”

She looks down at her knees and slowly straightens her legs and leans back onto her elbows, unsure of how to proceed, unsure if she wants to proceed, unsure if her wants have any relevance. She looks about herself, noticing the lumps and stains on the mattress, thinking twice about letting her hands touch it, resting them on her flat belly instead. Slowly she lets her fingers meander as she shifts her legs a little.

“Go on. You are my porno. Your purpose is to get me hard.” I almost said her ‘duty’, but that implies things about her that don’t apply anymore. She exhales through her nose sharply, frowning again. She flops back all the way to lie flat and waits, then cracks her toes in a last act of procrastination. Finally she lifts her hands up to her breasts, just letting them rest there for a while.

After a few quiet moments she peeks at me and winces. “What the fuck are you doing?”

I don’t bother answering her question. I am rolling my semi back and forth against my thigh with the palm of my hand, obviously. It’s what I do when jerking to porn all by myself, so I have no qualms doing it in front of my personal fucktoy. “I like your tits. Squeeze them together more.” She frowns again, but does it, perfunctorily at first, but she soon does it more naturally. My cock swells to full size in short order as her slight cleavage reminds me of the previous Nancy encounter. “See?” I let my erection hang free for her to see but she refuses to look. “You are going to be so useful to me.”

The praise sparks a grin that immediately twists forcefully into something frustrated. I step onto the futon, indifferent to her private struggles. Nancy draws her elbows in protectively, worried about what I am doing. Stepping over her, I stand astride her waist and stroke casually. She looks directly at my cock, perplexed by what she sees.

“What the hell is with that thing?”